


All I Am

by michaelandthegodsquad



Category: Borderlands, Tales from the Borderlands - Fandom
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Creampie, Feels, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Rimming, Rough Sex, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-19
Updated: 2015-11-19
Packaged: 2018-05-02 08:08:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5240972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/michaelandthegodsquad/pseuds/michaelandthegodsquad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I thought you were dead, Rhys,” Vaughn says abruptly, voice hard. “I watched people fall from the sky and crash and burn and I thought you were one of them. And then I found Yvette and she told me what happened and I didn’t—you didn’t even look for us and—” He lets go, sighing and scrubbing his hands up his face and through his hair, a few strands coming loose and falling down to frame his face. “I mourned you, Rhys.”</p><p>Rhys watches Vaughn, the lines around his eyes and the couple of gray strands of hair buried among the brown, and thinks Vaughn may be even more tired than he is.</p><p>OR: Rhys and Vaughn are reunited; there are feels and then reunion sex. That's it, that's the fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All I Am

**Author's Note:**

  * For [antisorum](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=antisorum).



> For [antisorum](http://antisorum.tumblr.com/), who asked for Gayperion reunion sex and "rhys finds he likes a little rough vaughn? orgasm denial? fuck me up." So I did, I think. I had a lot of fun writing this, and Haley was just lovely to work with!
> 
> Title from The Neighbourhood's "Sweater Weather."

They keep it together. They find each other after months of not knowing, and despite the bone-crushing hug, they rein it in in front of everyone. They unmask The Stranger. They get answers. They hatch a plan. Out of the corner of his eye Rhys keeps Vaughn in his line of sight at all times, and when he lets himself look he can see Vaughn doing the same. And they keep it together.

At the end of the day Rhys can feel the last few days—or weeks—no, make that months—finally catching up with him, a weight that he didn’t realize had been there this whole time finally lifting from his bones but somehow making him feel heavier, more exhausted than ever. Nights on Pandora aren’t always dark, and as evening sets in the sun still blazes bright, but it’s clear the day is coming to an end as one by one the Children of Helios retreat to their beds, some alone, others in pairs or in groups. Rhys watches them go and scratches at the back of his neck, unsure of his place here, feeling not unlike he did that very first day on Pandora.

Much like that first day, Rhys glances to his right and finds Vaughn there, smiling with the same tired look in his eyes. “Hey bro,” Rhys says, rolling his shoulders back and wincing at the soreness there. “I think I’m gonna sleep now, if that’s cool.”

Vaughn’s eyes widen just a bit at that—or were they always that wide?—and he nods. “Yeah, no problem bro. Uh…” He looks away, watches the Children of Helios head to their shared sleeping quarters. “I’ve got my own room, y’know.” He stops, chuckles at Rhys’s raised brow, the slightest color rising to his cheeks. “Perks of being a bandit boss, I guess,” he says, shrugging and crossing his arms over his mostly-bare chest. “I just mean, if you wanted a little privacy. And you don’t mind rooming with me...again.” He shrugs again, looking away and trying to act casual in a way that’s achingly familiar.

“Yeah, definitely. That’s...that’s fine.”

Vaughn’s room is pretty clearly the remnants of someone’s office, a battered desk in one corner and a bed that looks like its frame is made of scrap metal in the other. A window by the desk overlooks the whole settlement, sunlight filtering in and casting patterned lights through the cracked glass.

“It’s kinda small,” Vaughn says, sliding the door shut behind them, “but I should be able to squeeze another mattress in here on the floor, and you can have the bed—”

“No, that’s—don’t worry about it.” Rhys turns, giving Vaughn a wry grin. “We’ve squeezed into smaller spaces before.”

Vaughn lets out a full-bodied laugh at that, his smile wide and relaxed in a way that makes Rhys’s chest ache. “Yeah, I guess that’s true. Probably not what the President of Atlas is used to, though.” He wiggles his brows and Rhys just groans.

“Don’t say it like _that,_ it’s weird,” Rhys insists. “I’m hardly the president of anything. The whole thing is still in shambles, it’s—” He sighs, his shoulders drooping. “It’s a mess.”

Vaughn almost lets him have his moment. _Almost._ “Could’ve fooled me, with the fancy getup,” he says, reaching a hand out to touch Rhys’s lapel. “I mean, what is this, scythid silk or something? You and your imported fabrics.” Rhys frowns, moving to bat his hand away, but Vaughn just laughs, gripping the lapel harder, pulling himself closer. “C’mon, don’t be like that, you know I was just messing with you.” He doesn’t move away, looking up at Rhys with one hand on his lapel. “You look good. Real good,” he finishes quietly.

Rhys swallows. “You’re not so bad yourself,” he says lamely, cringing immediately. “I forgot that you didn’t actually _need_ the glasses.”

“Yeah, well, not all of us were exactly lining up for experimental ECHO eyes.”

“Worth it,” Rhys replies automatically. “Even the risk of death.” Vaughn doesn’t laugh at that the way he used to, frowning and looking down at Rhys’s tattoos. “Sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“I thought you were dead, Rhys,” Vaughn says abruptly, voice hard. “I watched people fall from the sky and crash and burn and I thought you were one of them. And then I found Yvette and she told me what happened and I didn’t—you didn’t even _look_ for us and—” He lets go, sighing and scrubbing his hands up his face and through his hair, a few strands coming loose and falling down to frame his face. “I mourned you, Rhys.”

Rhys watches Vaughn, the lines around his eyes and the couple of gray strands of hair buried among the brown, and thinks Vaughn may be even more tired than he is. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly.

The laugh Vaughn lets out is brief, bitter and sardonic as he says, “You’re sorry. You’re _sorry._ ” He looks up at Rhys again, giving him an incredulous smile, “You show up here like a fucking _ghost_ and you’re _sorr_ —”

It’s Rhys who leans in, getting his hands on either side of Vaughn’s neck and bringing their mouths together, anything to make Vaughn believe him. Vaughn leans heavily against him for a moment, letting Rhys kiss him and pull away to whisper another apology against his mouth.

Vaughn’s palms reach up to rest on Rhys’s chest, dry skin catching on the soft fibers of the jacket, and slide up the fabric, inching closer to Rhys’s neck—

where his fingers immediately curl into the collar of Rhys’s shirt, gripping tightly and yanking, forcing their mouths to crash together with enough force that it leaves Rhys reeling.

Everything Vaughn does is rougher than Rhys remembers; he kisses now like he’s trying to win a fight, presses their mouths together like he can make the last six months go away if he just pushes hard enough, biting as if trying to leave his mark. The hands bunched at his collar push hard against him suddenly, driving him backwards until his legs knock against the bed. Vaughn pushes him back onto the mattress with force, still holding on to his collar for leverage as he climbs into Rhys’s lap, eyes dark and wide as he settles his knees on either side of his hips and leans down to kiss him again. It all leaves Rhys dizzy as he scrambles to keep up, but ultimately relents and lets himself be taken along for the ride.

Rhys rests his hands on Vaughn’s stomach and feels scars he’s not familiar with, stretched across muscles that are even firmer than he remembers. Vaughn finally lets go of his shirt collar in favor of slipping his hands under his jacket, pushing it back over his shoulders harshly until Rhys can hear the seams ripping.

“Hey!” he mumbles indignantly against Vaughn’s mouth, to which Vaughn just hums out a laugh, the sound reverberating against Rhys’s lips.

“You’ll get over it,” Vaughn promises with a smile and another harsh bite to Rhys’s lower lip, dry and calloused hands coming up under his shirt to touch at the soft skin there. He pinches and rolls a nipple between rough fingertips, and Rhys lets out a low whine as he arches up against him, bringing them impossibly closer. He presses against Vaughn’s cock, hard and straining against his zipper, and Vaughn groans as he rocks his hips forward, one hand coming up to Rhys’s shoulder to hold him in place as he ruts against his stomach.

“Vaughn,” Rhys says on an outgoing breath, one hand coming down to finger his belt buckle. “Vaughn, c’mon, let me—”

Vaughn finally tears his mouth away from Rhys’s then, more strands of hair slipping out of his bun. “Yeah, go ahead bro,” he says with a hazy smile before pulling his own shirt up and over his head. Rhys follows suit and wastes no time in unbuckling Vaughn’s belt, leaning forward to lick at the light dusting of hair leading down to his waistband as he unbuttons and unzips his pants, pulling them down slightly to let Vaughn’s cock spring free from its confines.

Rhys swallows and licks his lips when he sees it, the coarse, light brown hair framing the base, the upward curve, the skin that bundles and forms a slight hood around the head. With his flesh hand he grasps it, grinning at the hitch in Vaughn’s breath as he slides the skin back, revealing a head that’s already slick and shiny with pre-come. He leans forward to get his mouth on it, humming at the warm, salty taste of it, the tip of his tongue pressing just under the head as Vaughn sighs and tangles a hand in his hair.

Rhys relaxes his mouth, letting spit gather and drip down the length of Vaughn’s cock, Vaughn’s hand guiding him down further until he can just barely smell the sweat on his skin. As his cock inches further into Rhys’s mouth Vaughn begins to rock his hips, urging himself further in until Rhys feels himself begin to gag. He pulls back then, a string of spit still connecting his lip to the tip of Vaughn’s cock. Rhys looks up at him with wide, wet eyes as he brings his mouth to the base of his cock, maintaining eye contact as he licks and sucks sloppily at the skin, letting his teeth just barely graze as he leaves a wet trail up the underside before closing his lips around the head again and sucking at the pre-come there.

“Shit,” Vaughn hisses under his breath, pulling Rhys’s head back by his hair until his mouth releases his cock with a slick _pop._ He presses Rhys back to lie down, climbing out of his lap and practically tearing Rhys’s pants off, tugging them down and off his long legs hastily. Rhys’s bared cock slaps against his stomach with the movement, and then Vaughn gets his hands on Rhys’s hips to effortlessly turn him over until he’s settled on his hands and knees on the mattress.

“Shit, did you get stronger or something?” Rhys asks breathlessly, trying not to let on the way he enjoys the rough handling.

Vaughn chuckles, sliding his hands down along his back, making Rhys shiver as they settle on his ass. “What, you thought this place built itself?”

Rhys almost laughs, because it’s just like Vaughn to crack jokes at a time like this, but he swallows it down and braces himself for what comes next, propping himself up on his elbows and waiting for Vaughn’s fingers.

Except they don’t come, at least not in quite the way Rhys was anticipating. Vaughn keeps his hands on Rhys’s ass, palming the muscles and dragging calloused fingertips across the skin so softly that Rhys stifles a laugh and shifts away from the tickling sensation. Finally they spread him open and touch lightly on his hole, making Rhys’s breath catch as he relaxes to let them in; but all they do is rub lightly along the puckered rim, and Rhys huffs, looking back at him.

“Planning on getting started soon?” he asks wryly, and Vaughn’s eyes dart up to him with an offhand “Hm?” as though he’d forgotten Rhys was even there. “This is great and all,” Rhys continues, “but can we maybe get to the main event?”

Vaughn snickers under his breath, raising one hand and letting it come down on Rhys’s ass with a resounding _crack_ ¸ making Rhys buck and groan breathlessly. “No need to get bossy,” Vaughn says, fingers now pressing more firmly against Rhys’s hole. “Just admiring the view. I missed this.”

Rhys tries to push down the sudden warm surge of affection and cover it up with a sarcastic, “I can’t believe you just _spanked_ me.”

“Believe it,” Vaughn says, though his voice is suddenly much closer, and Rhys thinks he can feel his warm breath on his ass. Then Vaughn’s hands are quickly spreading him open again, his tongue swiping wetly over his hole before practically plunging in, aggressively licking him open. Rhys nearly bucks again, but Vaughn’s hands hold him in place, until all he can do is clench his hands in the lumpy mattress and try to stifle his high-pitched whining.

Vaughn’s lips are chapped where they catch around the sensitive skin of his hole, his tongue moving and curling within him more surely, more confidently than Rhys remembers it ever being. At one point Vaughn even uses his teeth, nipping lightly at his rim before smoothing it over again with his tongue, making Rhys keen and move back into the touch.

And then there’s his beard. It’s certainly a new feeling for Rhys; having already scratched an attractive flush on the soft skin around his mouth, Vaughn’s beard now bristles at the most sensitive parts of Rhys, scraping the delicate skin around his hole and scratching against his perineum. When Vaughn’s fingers begin to press into his wet, loosened hole, his beard drifts down and grazes his balls, and Rhys clenches around Vaughn’s fingers, fists balling up bits of the mattress while his cock drips sticky pre-come onto the bed.

“ _Fuck,_ ” he groans, already feeling that warm tingling in the base of his spine, “Vaughn, c’mon, I’m almost there, _please._ ”

Vaughn pulls his mouth away from Rhys’s ass but continues fingering him lazily, other hand resting on the small of his back. “Yeah, I don’t think so. I haven’t forgotten how lazy you get after you come.” He curls his fingers just so, tips just barely pressing against Rhys’s prostate and making him gasp, then hums in amusement. “Nah, I think you can wait a little bit.” With that he gets back to work, slipping his tongue in beside his fingers, licking and stretching and pressing until Rhys is loose and sloppy wet, pressing back against Vaughn’s mouth and fighting back tears.

When Vaughn finally lets up, Rhys takes deep, shuddering breaths and wipes away the moisture in his eyes. Somewhere behind him he can hear Vaughn taking his pants off, and then rough, strong hands are moving him onto his back. Vaughn’s mouth is still wet with spit, his beard glistening with it, and Rhys smiles up at him lazily. Vaughn smirks, one hand spreading Rhys’s thighs apart while he strokes himself with the other, spreading pre-come down the length.

“You ready, bro?”

“ _God,_ yeah,” Rhys breathes out, and Vaughn leans over him, finally, _finally_ pressing into him. Both let out a long, relieved sigh at the feeling, Rhys squeezing his eyes shut as Vaughn lowers himself to his elbows. Their faces are barely an inch apart when Rhys opens his eyes again, and it should be awkward but Rhys just finds himself laughing and leaning up to kiss Vaughn, who echoes the laugh into his mouth and begins to move.

Both groan as Vaughn settles into a steady pace, left hand curling around the back of Rhys’s shoulder while the other reaches for his flesh hand, fingers intertwining and pressing into the mattress. He drags his mouth away from Rhys’s lips and down to his jaw, biting and licking his way to his neck until he stops to suck at the skin just above his collarbone. Rhys whines, his robotic hand coming up to tangle in Vaughn’s hair, pulling the strands fully out of their bun and reveling in the steady drag of Vaughn’s cock against his prostate, each time slipping nearly all the way out before sliding back in.

Satisfied with the mark he’s left, Vaughn gets his mouth on Rhys’s nipple, the loose strands of his hair tickling Rhys’s chest as he licks and sucks. He bites down suddenly and laughs at the way Rhys yelps, and Rhys can’t even be mad because he can’t remember the last time he had this much _fun,_ or any, for that matter, and it’s so good that all he can do is smile deliriously and clench around Vaughn in retaliation.

Vaughn groans at that, pulling his mouth away from Rhys’s nipple with one last lick before straightening himself again, his hair barely in its bun anymore, falling loose near his shoulders as he lets go of Rhys’s hand in favor of gripping his hips. “Hold on,” he says with a mischievous grin, and Rhys barely has time to respond before Vaughn is pulling back and thrusting harshly back into him. Rhys lets out a surprised whine, bracing himself with his metal hand on the wall behind him to keep from hitting his head as Vaughn sets a brutal pace, making Rhys shift on the bed every time he rocks forward. Rhys’s flesh hand comes down to rest on Vaughn’s on his hip, and yeah, he’s definitely stronger, Rhys thinks, his cock flicking pre-come onto his stomach as it bobs back and forth with each movement. Vaughn is wild-eyed above him, his hair falling around his face as he watches with a strange intensity as Rhys whimpers with each drag over his prostate.

“Vaughn—Vaughn, can I…?” Rhys breathes out, face flushed and sweat sticking his hair to his forehead.

Vaughn nods frantically, says, “Yeah…yeah, do it,” and nudges Rhys’s flesh hand towards his cock. Rhys takes the hint, getting his hand around himself and mewling, his back arching as he strokes himself and Vaughn encourages him in hushed tones. “You almost there?” he says quietly, and when Rhys nods he shoots him a hazy grin, letting go of Rhys’s hip to trail one finger around his hole, slowly pressing into Rhys beside his cock and hooking his finger to just barely tug on the rim. Rhys swears loudly, come spurting out onto his own stomach and chest, dribbling down his fist, flushing all over as he cries with relief, tears rolling down the sides of his face and onto the bed.

“Fuck,” Vaughn hisses, rocking against Rhys frantically before moving to pull out.

“W-wait,” Rhys stutters, clenching around Vaughn, who lets out a shaky groan. “Don’t,” Rhys breathes out. “Just—come on, come in me, please,” and Vaughn does, whole body shuddering as he comes, warm and wet, in Rhys’s ass, losing his grip and collapsing on top of Rhys. He crashes their mouths together, kissing Rhys like he’s starving, and Rhys gives as good as he gets, tangling a hand in Vaughn’s sweat-soaked hair as Vaughn trembles through the aftershocks.

“Fucking missed you,” Vaughn whispers against his mouth, pressing lazy, chaste kisses there. “Thought—never thought I’d—”

“Yeah, bro,” Rhys says quietly, robotic hand taking hold of Vaughn’s. “I know.”

The moment Vaughn catches his breath and pulls out, Rhys feels the rush of come from his ass, and frowns. “Uh…Vaughn…”

“Hm?” Vaughn hums in a daze, but his eyes widen when he looks down. “Shit, hold on,” he mumbles, looking around for something to clean them up with. After wiping him down, he gestures for Rhys to lift his butt and spreads the rag out under him, crouching to hold Rhys open and watch his come drip out of him, and Rhys frowns.

“Can you not? That’s so weird….and kinda gross.”

“You were the one who begged me to come in you,” Vaughn says with a smirk.

Rhys flushes. “…It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“It’s _still_ a good idea,” Vaughn says, still watching with something akin to awe, reaching one finger out to touch the wet rim, pushing some of his come back in. “I mean, maybe it’s just the bandit in me, but…I am _really_ enjoying this view. It’s pretty carnal, bro.”

“The _bandit_ in—just get up here, you fucking weirdo,” Rhys says with a laugh, beckoning Vaughn up to kiss him again.

* * *

Vaughn still sleeps on his stomach, Rhys discovers after they clean up, get Rhys’s arm off, and lie down. He never bothers tying his hair back up into its bun, letting it hang in loose, thick waves on his shoulders. It’s so _long,_ Rhys realizes, longer than he ever imagined it would be given how meticulous Vaughn used to be about his regular haircuts, which simultaneously makes him laugh and ache a little bit for what they’d lost.

Rhys can’t help but reach out to touch it, not used to the wavy texture, listening for any interruptions in Vaughn’s steady snoring. When a few strands fall away from Vaughn’s back, Rhys catches a glimpse of something dark on his shoulder, close to the junction of his neck, and brushes the rest of the hair aside and…there’s Rhys’s tattoo, almost a perfect duplicate of the one on his neck, just. Replicated on Vaughn’s shoulder.

Rhys swallows and pushes down that ache again, gets an arm around Vaughn’s waist and pulls him close. He’s not letting go again. He’s not.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come harass me on [Tumblr](http://michaelandthegodsquad.tumblr.com/) and find out how you can get me to write stuff for you.


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